We Grew Up At Midnight
by The Girl on the Moor
Summary: AU "I promise we are now best friends and I will never ever forget it…" There's a war inside John Watsons mind... His memories are gone and so is the light. Can a stranger help him remember his past? Who was he before he forgot? Sherlock/John
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

Sparkling stars like diamonds embedded in a midnight blanket hung in the sky like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Their glistening beauty holding the attention of the children below them. As sleepless night where filled with wonders of the universe one small boy pressed his nose against the cool window of his temporary bedroom and grinned. His breath fogged up the glass and with a small sigh he added to the mist before leaning back and drawing a smiley face in the condensation.

"John Hamish Watson, would you please finish getting ready for bed? I don't know how you're still up! I'm exhausted!" Maria Watson looked over at her eight year old son and smiled, her green eyes lighting up her pale face. "If you don't go to sleep soon you'll be too tired tomorrow for all the fun I have planned!" At that the sandy haired boy quickly turned his head.

"Fun? What are we doing tomorrow?" The young woman laughed and wondered over to her offspring ruffling his hair before tapping her nose with a smile.

"Ah, ah! If I tell you it wouldn't be a surprise would it!"

"Mum!"

"Don't you mum me mister! But you're pyjamas on and get a board the train to sleepy town."

"I'm not a baby mum…" The woman peered at him for a second before scooping the petite boy into her arms and hugging him tightly.

"You'll always be my baby! Even when you're a million years old!"

"Mum!" She laughed and placed the boy down.

"This is going to be the best holiday ever John. The country air will do us good! When we go back to London we'll all be well rested and ready for anything!" The boy peered up at the lanky woman and slowly smiled. He held up his hand and extended his pinkie.

"Promise?" She laughed and linked her own little finger with his. Together the shook their hands and nodded.

"I promise. Now. Bed time. I need to go make sure you sister has actually gone to sleep. Knowing her she'll have her nose in some trashy magazine." John watched the woman leave before wondering back over to the window and peering out. The small boy had lived in the city his whole life, rarely seeing the stars above the brightly lit place. To him, this was a new sky. Not the one at home, the constant dark sea of nothingness couldn't possibly be the same as this beautiful dream that lay above him. He silently grabbed the curtains with his small hands and pulled them shut before clambering into bed.

He truly did believe his mother; this was going to be the best holiday ever. With a sky like that how could it not be?

With a tired grin on his face he allowed sleep to cover him and take him far, far away.

* * *

><p>"Mum! Mum! Are you watching?"<p>

"I'm watching John! Harriet, can you please just put some sun cream on whilst I watch your brother?"

The green eyed woman turned away from her daughter just in time to see her son jump from the diving board and into the cool water below him. She clapped dramatically until he resurfaced, gasping for air.

"Good one mate!"

As it turned out Maria Watsons surprise for her children had been a day spent at an outdoor pool. The perfect combination for her two very different children. John would enjoy the swimming whilst Harry could sit in the sun for a few hours and pretend she was in Spain. So far, everyone was happy.

"You try!"

"No thanks, I'm alright here with Harry! You have fun though!" John rolled his eyes as he watched the two women in his life sit in the sun, one with a thick novel and the other with a brightly coloured teenage magazine. He swam to the side and pulled himself up, sitting on the side of the pool and kicking his feet creating splashes.

He looked around in search of other children to befriend. A group of girls where huddled around one corner of the pool whist several older boys where throwing a football back and forth. No one stood out for him. This was supposed to be the perfect holiday, what he needed was the perfect friend... With a sigh he pulled himself up and wondered around the edge.

"Mum! I'm going to go explore."

"Don't go too far! Make sure you can see me!"

"I'm not a baby anymore!"

The small, bare footed boy padded away from the main pool and into the small play area next door. Children where running around in their swimsuits, throwing water balloons at one another and rushing to the water fountain to fill up more. For a while John just watched, his eyes searching for an opportunity to join in. When none arrived he frowned and wondered over to a nearby tree in search of some shade. He lowered himself onto the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest Maybe he didn't need to make any friends. After all, he was only there for a week so in the end he'd leave anyway… And he liked spending time with his mum, in reality she was his best friend (not that he'd ever let the lads at school know that. He didn't want to be bullied more then he already was).

John came to the conclusion that he could make his own fun and in the meantime he'd stick by his mother's side as much as humanly possible.

"You can't sit there…" John's large eyes blinked as he peered up, raising a hand to shield his pupils from the blaring sun.

Beside him stood a boy, around his own age, with dark curly hair and ghostly white skin. He was staring down at him with a piercing, ice blue gaze, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his navy shorts.

"What?"

"You can't sit here."

"I heard you the first time. I mean why?"

"You should have made you question clear to start with…" There was silence for a few seconds before the dark haired boy sighed dramatically and waved his hands as he spoke. "You can't sit here because I'm doing an experiment! And if you carry on sitting there like an idiot it will all be ruined!"

John frowned and uncurled his legs.

"An experiment?"

"That's what I said."

"What kind of experiment?" The dark haired boy rolled his eyes and seemed to consider John for a second.

"You really want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're making fun of me." John blinked at the statement and frowned.

"No I'm not… I really want to know…" The boy stared at him for a second, looking slightly wary before clearing his throat.

"Fine, but you can't let the others know… They'll ruin everything." He gestured to the other children running around before snapping his gaze back to John. "Promise it will just be you and me. Promise?" John nodded and held a hand to his heart.

"I swear on my life." The other boy nodded. "I'm John by the way."

"Sherlock."

"What?"

"My names Sherlock."

"That's… I haven't heard that name before."

"Good. That makes it more interesting. Now, my experiment." The boy pulled a small plastic tub from his pocket and held it out for John to see. "Do you know what this is?"

"It looks like a tub of peanuts…"

"It is a tub of peanuts. I'm trying to see if animals can remember."

"Why?"

"For research. Since the summer holidays started I've been coming here every day and leaving a small pile of food at the bottom of this tree. At this exact time, everyday."

"What for?" Sherlock pointed a small pale finger upwards.

"A squirrel lives in this tree. I determine that if we leave this food five minutes before the usual time I arrive and go watch he'll come down at exactly 3 pm. Thus, proving my theory."

"What's your th-theori?"

"It's theory. And I'm trying to prove to my brother that animals can tell the time."

"Why?"

"We have a bet." John nodded silently, still not completely understanding. He quickly stood up as Sherlock emptied the container on the ground and stood back up, peering down at the shorter boy.

"There, now we shall go hide over by the swings. Keep your eyes on the tree. We have five minutes until it's three o'clock." John nodded and followed Sherlock. They each took a swing and kept their eyes on the tree.

"So, do you live near here?"

"Yes." John nodded, this Sherlock boy clearly wasn't a talker.

"I'm on holiday…"

"Obviously." John turned to him at that and frowned.

"How is it obvious?"

"Can I try something on you?" John nodded slowly, noticing his question had been ignored.

"Yes…" Sherlock's eyes never left the tree.

"I've been practising this thing. I got a book from the library and I've read it a lot of times. It is about this thing called deducing. That means I can tell things about you that you've never told me. So, I'm going to practise on you. Do you agree?"

"Sure." Sherlock nodded, once again his eyes focused.

"You're here with your mother and older sister. This is your first holiday away for a while so she's trying to make it special. You're here from London where you attend public school, even though you hate it. You don't get along with the other children. Maybe because you're a little socially awkward, more likely because they pick on you due to you lack of height. Also, you're father is dead." John blinked at him a few times before smiling.

"That was really cool!" Sherlock snapped his gaze to him briefly before allowing it to return to his target.

"Really?"

"Yeah! _So_ cool!"

"Thanks… I mean… I thought you'd be mad about what I said concerning your father."

"He died a long time ago… It's fine. That was just _awesome_! I mean you where right about everything!"

Sherlock smirked as, in the distance, the town clock chimed three. As if on cue a small, twitching nose appeared from the branches of the tree before them. As quick as lighting the small squirrel rushed down the rough bark and gathered the peanuts into its mouth. As it once more disappeared Sherlock turned to John with a large smile plastered across his pale face.

"I usually am." John smiled and looked over at his mother and sister. Maria was stood, up on her tiptoes and looking for her son.

"Look. I've got to go… But if I can convince my mum to bring me here tomorrow do you swear to be here?" Sherlock eyed him for a moment before smiling.

"I swear." John nodded and jumped to his feet.

"Good, because we're friends now."

"Friends?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're _interesting_… and cool! Why wouldn't I want to be your friend?"

"That's not what the other kids say…"

"What do they say?"

"They call me a freak." John scoffed at that and rolled his eyes.

"Who cares? I don't think you're a freak and that's all that matters."

"I've… I've never had a friend before…" Johns smile grew as he jumped to his feet.

"Really? I can be your first then! And first friends are best friends. So, we'll be friends forever from this moment on."

"This all seems rather sudden."

"Nothing sudden about it. When you know you know. And I know we're meant to be friends always." Sherlock seemed to think for a moment before nodding slowly. "It will be like an adventure!" Sherlock frowned and folded his arms.

"Will it be dangerous?"

"All adventures are dangerous silly! But we'll be together so it will be fine!"

"John? Where are you? John!" Marias voice was getting closer and John quickly turned to his new friend.

The small sandy haired boy stuck out his pinkie and looked at Sherlock.

"Link your baby finger with mine." The curly haired boy did as he was told. "I promise we are now best friends. Now you say it."

"I promise we are now best friends…"

"Good! I'll see you tomorrow? I've got to go before my mum gets worried."

"I… Yes… Ok."

Sherlock watched as his new 'friend' ran towards the two women waiting for him. As the boy turned and waved at him Sherlock found himself returning the gesture, an action he was not used to at all.

As the small family of three vanished around the corner and out of sight Sherlock heard a deep voice from behind him.

"You lied to him… what was his name? John?" Sherlock glanced over his shoulder and frowned at the figure of his older brother.

"Leave me alone Mycroft."

"You know very well tomorrow you return to school for the new term. I always did find it odd that private establishments had such a different calendar to those of the public." His tall, slim sibling sat on the swing John had occupied not moments earlier and peered at his little brother out of the corner of his eye. "Why did you lie?" Sherlock didn't answer and folded his arms angrily. Mycroft smiled and ran a hand through his own thick brunette hair. "You try to act so grown up all the time. But even you are partial to pretending. Pretending won't make it real Sherlock. You should have told him the truth. Now he'll come looking for you."

"Yes, well. Maybe one day he'll find me…"

"I wouldn't bet on it. The world's a big place. What are the chances?" Sherlock huffed.

"Well, we're best friends now."

"This is rather sudden."

"I don't care. You said I'd never make any friends and I have. Even if I never see him again John and I are best friends." Mycroft chuckled and rested a hand on his siblings shoulder.

"Whatever you say Sherlock. Come on now. Mother says you need to come and check you have all the books you want to take back to school with you."

"Fine." Sherlock jumped from the swing and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Oh, and Mycroft?"

"Hm?"

"I won the bet. The squirrel did come." The taller boy laughed and ruffled his brothers' curls.

"Well, I guess I owe you an ice cream then."

The next day, at precisely three o'clock, John Watson ran through the gate separating the pool and the park and sat on the swing. He waited until the squirrel scampered down peered at the usually food spot disappointedly. He waited until all the other children had gotten tired and gone home. He waited until his mother said that they really needed to leave. He waited as long as he could…

But Sherlock never came.

And despite the tears he felt prickle at his eyes over the loss of a friendship that had never truly begun he headed back to school several weeks later with his summer homework (to write about your summer) in his hand.

As his name was called and he took his place in front of the class to read he proudly cleared his throat and read the title…

**_My New Best Friend Sherlock._**

* * *

><p>Years later, in a world of sand and death he thought back to that day. The day he'd met the strange boy with the dark hair and icy eyes. The time seemed entirely inappropriate. As hell surrounded him and flames threatened to shred his very soul apart would his last thought be about a day so long ago? A day that didn't really matter at all? An event that was simply a smudge on his memory?<p>

As he felt a ripping terror coarse through his veins, as he fell to the ground with a scream of pain, he thought back to the day he'd made his first best friend.

And whilst he felt his eyes slowly closing he smiled lightly and remembered the day when everything had seemed just oh, so wonderful.

When times where simpler and his life wasn't a war.

_When the everyday life wasn't a battle field._

* * *

><p><em><strong>I would really like to know what you think of this. I also hope you are wonderfully well!<strong>_

_**I'll hopefully update soon!**_

_**GOFM**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Rain patted against the chilled glass of the window, the sound soothing… Almost like a lullaby.

"John? Are you listening?" John Watson, who was sat in a plush red arm chair allowed his gaze to snap back up to the woman sat opposite him.

"What?" she sighed, allowed her eyes to role briefly before, once again, becoming the picture of calmness.

"I said the only person who can help you is yourself."

"So I should tell my mother to stop paying you should I? Sounds like she's wasting her money." The woman chuckled and placed her note pad down.

"What about the blog? Have you started that?" John groaned, running a hand over his tired face. "It will help… I use this concept on many soldiers returning from war. Especially those with injuries as serious as your own."

"I haven't started it…"

"Look John… I know you don't like me very much. That you're only here out of kindness to your mother. But believe me when I tell you… Writing a blog about everything you actually remember before the incident will help you move on."

John paused for a second, staring out of the window with a wounded expression.

"I don't remember anything…."

* * *

><p>There was something about losing all his memories that had changed John… Well, maybe he'd changed. He couldn't really remember what he was like before. He assumed he wasn't the miserable bastard he'd become.<p>

The first thing he could remember was waking up in a hospital in London with two woman (one considerably older than the other) peering down at him with worried faces. After the somewhat traumatic experience of asking who they were before watching both break down as if they'd just been told the end was coming he was informed these two strangers where, in fact, his mother and sister.

The situation was explained to him over a series of weeks. The doctors tried many things in an attempt to help him regain his memories but nothing worked. John Watson was an empty shell, a middle aged man who knew nothing of his past and was sporting as less then enviable limp.

"Sometimes," a nurse had told him when he was having a particularly bad day. "There's a trigger, do you know what I mean? Something that will flick the light switch in your mind and it will all come rushing back. Like someone's turned on a tap in your brain."

John didn't know what his trigger was… He'd tried to think but the fog just wouldn't clear in his mind.

"Don't worry about it," she'd said kindly. "If you remember, then good. If you don't, well, some of us would give a lot to start again. A completely blank slate."

That's what John was.

A blank slate.

He spent time with the woman apparently labelled his sibling and ensured he visited his 'mother' as often as possible. More for her benefit then his own. He felt sorry for her… He may have to start again but, he supposed, she had sort of lost a child.

The man she knew, who she'd raised and created wonderful memories with… Was gone. Replaced by the hollow, unhappy human he now was.

He found himself wondering through a park near the therapist office which he'd just left, wondering if he'd ever been there before. Staring at the trees and hoping that something, anything, would grab his attention and make him see…

"John?"

He ignored the call at first, probably not for him anyway… No call was ever for him.

"John Watson?" Ok, perhaps it was. He stopped; his walking stick tightly gripped in his hand, and turned around.

A plump gentleman in a grey suit was jogging towards him with a massive smile on his face.

"John Watson! As I live and breathe! Haven't seen you for years!"

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"…Mike! Mike Stamford? We went to Bart's together?… I heard you where abroad getting shot at! What the bloody hell happened!"

A silence grew around them as the nearby park erupted in child rends laughter. John squeezed his stick tightly and allowed a small, forgiving smile to grace his lips.

"I got shot."

"So you don't remember anything?"

"No, not a thing… I mean, I remember my name…. But even then I'm not sure if it's just because that's what people have been calling me since I woke up at the hospital. I've memorized my birthday and age… Important stuff, you know?"

"Wow, how extraordinary!" John raised an eyebrow. "From a medical point of view I mean… So what, you ever going to remember?"

"Not a clue… Got to find this trigger thing. Although how I'm supposed to I don't know…"

"Well, it's glad to have you back in London! Are you going to be staying?"

"I can't afford London on an army pension…"

"But you couldn't bear to be anywhere else! Not the John Watson I knew!"

"Yes, well, I'm not the John Watson you knew…" He saw Mike shrink back slightly and sighed. "Sorry… It's just… Well, my mother's always going on about how I used to be and stuff… Like I've died or something… It can get you down after a while."

"I can see why…"

The two men sat in silence on the bench for a few minutes, just watching the world go by.

"You could get a flat share. You know, split the cost?" John snorted and stretched his arms with a sigh.

"Who on earth would want to be my flat mate?" Mike gave him a curious glance before chuckling. "What?"

"Nothing… It's just… You're the second person to say that to me today." John paused and stared straight ahead, thinking hard.

"Who was the first?"

Mike seemed to grimace before clearing his throat.

"I'm not sure you want to know mate… I mean… He's a bit of an odd ball…"

"At this point Mike, I'm willing to try anything."

"If you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you…"

The trip to Bart's wasn't long, a quick jump into a taxi and a silent journey through the London traffic and they where there, Mike held the door open for John which he thanked him for quietly whilst trying to stop the shaking of his hand.

They wondered through the corridors chatting lightly about the weather whilst John peered around at these new surroundings.

"Ah, Mike." John looked up to see a petite woman smiling widely at them.

"Hello Molly, is the genius about?" She nodded and smiled, gesturing towards a nearby door.

"In there, I'm going to get coffee, do you want anything?"

"I'm fine thanks, you John?"

"I'm alright ta…" The woman nodded politely and wondered past them.

"Molly, lovely girl."

"She seems it." Mike wandered over to the door and pushed it open.

"Come on in." John nodded and followed him, his walking stick clicking with a light echo bouncing from the walls.

"Do you want a seat John?"

"No… No. I'm fine standing thank you… Wow, look at this place."

"Yeah, all the modern stuff got installed a few years back. It's taken me all this time to work out how most of it works." The plump man chuckled and grabbed his lab coat from the back of his chair, slipping his arms into it and doing up the buttons.

"Mike, can I use your phone?" John blinked and turned to peer at the source of the voice. Leant over a rather complicated looking experiment was a tall, pale man in a dark suit. His curly hair had fallen in front of his face slightly. Mike turned to the gentlemen and sighed.

"Sorry, it's in my other jacket in the cloak room."

"Here, you can use mine." John pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to the man,

"Oh… Thank you."

"It's fine." John looked into the other mans eyes and frowned. They were staring at him with such an intent gaze he felt a shiver creep up his spine.

It was unnerving.

The ex solider cleared his throat and turned back to Mike.

"So erm… Would it be ok if I got your number Mike? You know, would be nice to actually have a friend somewhere in the city." Mike chuckled and nodded, handing his old friend one of his cards.

"Sure, call me and we'll get a pint some time."

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" John froze and slowly turned back to the stranger, his eyes wide. The taller man was not even looking at him anymore, but staring at the phone screen intently.

"Excuse me?"

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan… Sorry how did you…"

"You're difficult to read, that much is certain. The solider part is easy enough, the fact your brother is worried about you but suffering from some sort of alcohol problem… But the rest of you is a complete mystery. Tell me," he turned and held out the phone with a smirk. "How much do you remember before your memory was wiped clean?"

John slowly took the phone back and stuffed it into his pocket.

"How did you know all of that?"

"It's like his party trick," Mike piped up from his desk. "He takes one look at you and tells you everything about yourself. I guess you don't really know yourself so how can you possibly show who you are. Does that make sense?"

"In a strange, obscure fashion, yes," the man said. "And it isn't a party trick. It's deduction. Serious work." Mike laughed and sat back in his chair, glancing between the two men with a smile.

"John Watson, meet Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, meet John Watson."

_Sherlock Holmes? _

John held out his hand and attempted to smile politely.

"Nice to meet you… That was amazing… That thing you did." Sherlock seemed to raise an eyebrow before clearing his throat.

"Do you think so?"

"Brilliant!"

"That's not what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off." John blinked a few times before laughing.

"I guess you tell them things they don't want to hear?"

"More than often. People are so easy to read, you just have to look for what they're subconsciously telling you."

"And how was I telling you about those things you picked up on?" Sherlock smirked and wondered over to the doorway, picking up his coat and pulling it on.

"I assume you're here about the whole flat mate situation? I've got my eyes on a lovely little place. We should be able to afford it together."

"What?"

"Oh, isn't it obvious? Mike turns up with an old friend, obviously looking for a flat mate, the very day I myself was complaining about been unable to find one."

Mike rolled his eyes and gestured to Sherlock.

"He's always like this…"

"The address is 221B Baker Street, shall we meet there say…. Five?"

"Five…. Sounds good."

"Wonderful. Good day gentlemen." Mike tipped an invisible cap and laughed at Johns expression once Sherlock was out of ear shot.

"Told you he was an odd one."

"He's brilliant! How did he… I don't get it!"

"He won't tell me how he does it either. Maybe one day you'll manage to niggle it out of him. If you do give me the heads up. It would be good to try and put the bastard in his place for once." John smiled and nodded before running a hand through his sandy hair.

"Well… I should probably head home. I mean, get things ready before I see this flat."

"Good luck mate… You'll need it."

John left Bart's and returned to his small room in the accommodation provided for him upon his return from the war. He passed the other residence with a tired, weary nod and unlocked his door before slamming it shut behind him. In silence he lowered himself onto his bed and peered around the small, empty, unfeeling room.

This wasn't his home. No… This wasn't his home at all. There was no life… He felt no joy when he returned there, only the constant drudgery of those four walls.

He glanced at his watch. 3 o'clock. Two hours before he had to meet Mr Holmes. With curious thoughts and a light churning in his stomach he lowered himself down onto the bed and allowed sleep to overcome him, so long as his nightmares permitted.

* * *

><p>"He's getting a flat mate." The young girl folded her legs in the wooden dining chair and smirked. "What do you think of that?" In all honesty, delivering bad news to her boss made her almost insanely happy. Anything she could do to just wipe that everlasting grin from the man's face was worth it in her opinion.<p>

"Damn it!" The mug that had been full of boiling hot, freshly brewed tea smashed on the wall behind her as she chuckled.

"Throwing a little tantrum are we?"

"You don't speak to me like that, not unless you want to set up residence at the bottom of the Thames."

"Oh, come off it. You love the fact I'm not scared of you. It makes it interesting. You like the banter. Still, can't say you're taking this news as well as I thought you would."

The man rolled his eyes and sat down behind his desk.

"The more people involved the harder it is. Every turn I take Sherlock Holmes seems to want nothing more than to irritate me in more ways than one. I need to find a loop hole… Something to use as a weapon against him…"

"That man doesn't have a weakness. I've been following him for more than a year. If it's some sort of front he's putting on it's a bloody convincing one. Besides, you haven't asked me the most interesting questions of all."

"Who is this mysterious flat mate?"

"Ah, this is where it gets oh so very juicy." The man lent forward, suddenly interested in what his young worker had to say."

"Do spill the beans sweetie pie." She laughed and leant back in her chair with a smirk.

"John Hamish Watson."

"You're joking…"

"Am I the type to make jokes?" The man seemed to think for a moment, his thoughts like a bullet train powering through his mind.

"This…" He said proudly. "Could work very well in our advantage little miss."

"I was aware. I know you think I'm an absolute idiot but there is a brain between these two ears…"

The man laughed again before picking up his phone and typing in some digits quickly. As the girl went to leave he waved his hand and smirked.

"Oh no, I have some plans for you sunshine. Just park yourself back in that chair and give me a few minutes. A deliciously sickly sweet plan is forming in my mind."

* * *

><p>"<em>What do you mean you're leaving?"<em>

"_It's my only chance… I've got to grab it with both hands…"_

"_But… But… What about me? You can't leave me! You promised John! You fucking swore!"_

"_I'll come back. I promise."_

"_Your promises mean nothing to me! Not anymore! How can you do this?"_

"_Keep playing the game. Just keep playing. I will be back. Believe me. I will be…"_

"_I want to believe you. I really, really do…"_

* * *

><p>John shot up in bed, his eyes wide and limbs shaking. In silence his eyes spun to his clock. Still an hour until he had to meet Mr Holmes.<p>

He thought about his dream…

There had been no faces… No images at all. Just the voices… Obviously one of them was his but the other? He hadn't a clue. He swung himself from bed and grabbed his walking stick, pulling himself to his feet and wondering towards his desk.

He turned his laptop on and sat down, ready to write.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Would love to know what people are thinking so far! Let me know!<strong>_

_**GOTM **_

_**x**_


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